The Girl in the Mirror
by writeonkate
Summary: The twin daughters of the Duke of Pire have always been each other's closest friend and ally, sisters as alike as two girls in the mirror. Yet with the promise of power, will everything come crashing down among the sisters' feet?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, Archenland, or any recognizable characters. Nough said.

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_Hooves pounded the muddy ground in quick succession, hurrying the rider to his destination. Faster, faster. The news the rider carried was such that could not be delayed. He had sworn to his liege upon bended knee that this message would arrive with all due diligence. Not even the deluge of rain which followed the young man to the southern borders of Archenland would deter him. _

_Finally, after so many hours of exhausting riding, the great castle which the boy had sought came into view. The messenger gave a sigh of relief and accomplishment, his task now closer to an end than he thought it could be. It took only the smallest space of time for the horse's hooves to clatter upon the lowered drawbridge and bring the rider to the doors of the great hall. Without second thought, he hurled himself off his horse, his legs wobbling a moment at the sudden change. Although every muscle in his body ached, the messenger tore into the hall, calling out inquiries to the location of Her Grace. _

_The lady herself was seated upon a dais under a magnificently embroidered cloth of what could only be called spun clouds, so white it ached, even in the shadowy and smoky room that surrounded it. Even used to the castle at Anvard, the boy could not help but stare at the hanging and then at the woman sitting under it. _

_The woman spoke quietly to a man who knelt at her feet, and did not even spare a glance up at the intrusion. "State your business, boy, before you are shown out," she called across the room, her voice surprisingly strong for a woman. There was a certain note of impatience in her voice and with a gulp, the boy straightened his blue and white livery as best he could and drew the message from the pouch he wore around his neck. _

_"His Highness, King Lune of Archenland and the Winding Arrow River, is grieved to inform the Duchess of Glasswater of the death of his beloved queen, Her Highness the Queen of Archenland…" the boy began, coming to an abrupt halt when the Duchess waved her hand impatiently. _

_"What is your name, boy?" she asked, standing and letting her eyes meet the messenger's for the first time. Her eyes seemed to draw him in, making him eager to answer her. _

_"Janik, my lady," the boy said, bowing awkwardly._

_The Duchess surveyed Janik for a moment before she took two steps down the dais to stand in front of him, appraising him with a critical eye. "Your message comes from no less than the King, I presume?" she said. Rather than the expected sadness, her voice was filled with what Janik could only call amusement. _

_The messenger boy nodded, hoping this was the answer she looked for. Instinctively he took a step back from the powerful woman before him, furrowing his brow slightly at how familiar she appeared. Although she had not been seen at court in years, this woman looked eerily similar to someone that Janik had known in his twelve summers. _

_With a tight lipped smile, the Duchess turned on her heel. Shining blonde swirled about her shoulders, giving her a certain sort of eccentric look, as she stepped up upon the dais and retook her seat. In the blink of an eye, she had thrown her lovely head back and broke into laughter. _

_Janik took another step back, eyeing the door with longing. Nobody had told him he would be visiting the home of a madwoman. Why, the keeper of the pages had given Janik a great honor to travel so far to take such an important message to the Duchess. While he didn't know what made the Duchess so very special, he was beginning to wonder at where the honor of interacting with this lady could be. _

_When at last her laughter had melted into an amused smirk, Janik dared to relay his second part of the message. "Shall you join the country in mourning, Your Grace?" he asked timidly. _

_"Mourning? On this, my crowning moment? Why should I do anything but celebrate my triumph?" snapped the Duchess. "You may tell the King I am too embroiled in protecting his southern borders to drop everything and scurry to Anvard. My many petitioners may not be ignored," she added, waving a hand to the empty hall. _

_Even though he could see through her transparent lie, Janik had not the stomach to refute the lady's words, and with a bow he walked away as quickly as his feet could take him. Suddenly, neither his sore back, empty stomach, nor his aching posterior could make him stop his return to the horse. _

_As he left, the echoes of the Duchess' laugh rang throughout the tall stone walls of the room. "At last, sister, I am victorious." _


	2. In the Presence of the Pines

Disclaimer: This is a fan work. As such, I own no character except the ones you don't recognize.

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The castle of the Duke of Pire was in a variable state of frenzy. Not two days ago, a message had come from the Duke himself, announcing to his wife his intentions to make a stop at his family home within the week. Of course, this was cause enough for surprise. The Duke of Pire had much higher duties at Anvard that demanded his attention far more than the petty arguments of farmers who lived in the shadow of the great mountain. As such, it fell to his wife Eileen, a woman who was not particularly bright, but carried out her chores in such a ruthless efficiency that no servant dared to do a thing against her.

All along the halls, serving woman scurried like a colony of ants, carrying heavy loads of freshly starched sheets and rugs beat out after nearly a year of neglect. The Duchess of Pire had made certain that all the staff knew the exacting standards expected by the Duke, and those who had met the Duke on his last visit two years ago could attest to his short temper and propensity to bark orders at servants like they were dogs. As such, long needed repairs to the privy were undertaken by the men, and the stable boys were set to polishing tack and brushing horses until they gleamed unnaturally.

In all this chaos, it was not difficult for the children of the Duke and Duchess to effectively disappear and not be missed by anyone. So it was that Allete and Aletia found their way effortlessly out of the confines of the stone walls and out into the forested area only a stone's throw away from the courtyard.

"Come on, Allete! Honestly, we'll never get there if you don't hurry up," called back an imperious-sounding Aletia. Although only seven years old, she had long since taken the lead when she was with her twin sister, and it didn't seem to be a phenomena stopping any time soon.

Allete's answer was a series of huffs and puffs as she strained to keep up with her sister. Her leather boots seemed to slip and slide without warning on the slippery leaves which littered the ground, and she picked her way delicately around fallen branches and limbs obscuring the path like she walked through a battlefield, attempting to keep the hem of her dress from falling into the dirt and betraying their adventure. So she fell behind, excusing her slowness on the fact that she frequently checked over her shoulder to ensure they were not followed by a keen-eyed serving woman.

It only took a half-hour's climb for the sisters to reach the summit they had sought. A huge pine tree stood sentry over the area, offering protection in its presence. A wide grin broke over Aletia's face; it was here, more than anywhere else, where she felt the most alive and the most at peace with her lot in life. "It hasn't changed!" she said joyfully as she made a beeline for the great pine, ducking under its branches like it was a natural doorway. The inside of the tree was just as they had left it, with two old horse blankets filched from the stables strewn about, along with a half-empty bottle of mulled cider which their older sister Selwyn had thought to bring along the last time.

Allete was only a moment behind her sister, although unlike Aletia, who was still busy with taking a mental inventory of their supplies, Allete simply sat upon a rumpled blanket with a sigh as she looked towards her sister. "I don't think anything's missing," Allete said with a little smile.

"I have to make sure some faun didn't come upon it and steal it," Aletia said with all the seriousness that she could muster. Although they had long outgrown the childish stories of Narnia and its Talking Beasts and Fauns and Centaurs, Aletia still seemed to heartily believe that not only did they exist, but if she looked hard enough, she'd find one right under her nose here in Archenland.

Allete sighed. "You know they don't exist, right?" she said quietly, sounding much more like a disinterested middle-aged woman than a seven year old girl.

Aletia gave her sister a hard look. "If you didn't look exactly like me, I'd swear you were mother," she said spitefully. "You sound just as dour and mean as she does when you say things like that," Aletia added, sticking out her tongue.

The hurt on Allete's face was obvious, and instantly Aletia knelt down to comfort her sister. "Lettie, I didn't mean it. You're much better than mother is," Aletia said quickly. "You can tell the difference between us, to start with," she added with a mirthful smile.

There was still a stray sniffle from Allete, but in a moment she was giving watery giggles, too. Their mother the Duchess was notoriously bad at telling her twin daughters apart. "I sometimes wonder if we're named right. Perhaps she mixed us up when we were babies and you became Aletia, and I became Allete, instead of the other way around," Allete added after a moment.

"Probably so, although I'd like to think that they confused us an odd number of times so that we did end up right," Aletia added. The gleam in her eyes seemed to match the gleam in her sister's, and in only a moment, they had made up and were best friends again.

Allete paused for a moment, playing with a long pine needle, wrapping it around her finger over and over like a ring. "I suppose we'll have to wear the blue dresses again," she finally said, making a face. "I don't like them very much- they're very uncomfortable."

Aletia stood imperiously. "I wish I were Queen of Archenland, Allete," she said suddenly. "That way I could tell my husband to make a law that forbade seamstresses from making uncomfortable dresses. Why, I'd even let women wear breaches!" she added with a wild gleam in her eyes.

"Aletia, you're mad!" Allete said, although she could not help herself from laughing as she imagined her small lanky sister sporting a pair of breaches and a tunic like the workmen wore. "You know that no proper lady, much less a queen, could wear men's clothing."

"Says who? I doubt Aslan said anything about it," Aletia said with a shrug as she leapt up effortlessly onto a tree limb. She impatiently pushed back her long brown-blonde hair, which was no doubt a tangled mess of knots by now that would require Lady Joan, the unlucky woman that their mother had assigned to the care of her two daughters (since it was unfathomable that the Duchess herself look into their daily care herself), hours of patient struggle as Aletia squirmed on the high stool in their room.

Allete stole a breath at the mention of Aslan. "Aletia! Don't talk like that!" she said, her eyes full of fear that the wrath of a Lion so distant that most of Archenland spoke his name in fearful reverence would leap and strike her sister down as she stood for her impetuous speech. "Aslan will be angry if you say such things!"

Aletia just laughed. "You worry too much, Allete. Where's your sense of fun? I was only kidding," she said with a charming smile. Allete never could understand how her twin sister could be so pert and charming, rather than a coward and about as charming as a boulder. They were two halves of a whole, their nursemaid Nan always said, but it seemed that whoever had cut them out had forgotten to cut them to share traits equally. It was almost funny for two girls to look so much alike and be so different. They had the same milky blue eyes and the same long, rather impossible brown-blonde hair that looked more like a light shade of mud than anything that should be atop a person's head. Even their dresses were the same, since it seemed their mother was fond of flouting the fact she had twins.

Aletia's smile had its desired effect, and so Allete ignored the uneasy feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach to smile again with her sister. The sounds of the shepherd's flute drifted on the breeze and Aletia's eyes sparkled with merriment as she dragged her sister outside. "Dance with me, Allete!" she commanded, grabbing her sister's hands and swinging her around in a crazy sort of reel. Allete felt her feet skim the grass, following her sister's lead, as she had for most of her life. Nobody would ever believe she was the elder of the two sisters by almost a half hour, she thought with a slight frown.

Her sister, though, took this as a challenge and breathlessly began singing the bawdy song that went with the tune, causing her sister to blush. "Mother would be appalled!" Allete called, catching her breath between giggles at the song's obscene lyrics.

"Mother isn't here!" Allete called back as she threw her head back to sing with gusto about a man who came from the fields to find his wife with another man and joined in the fun rather than be angry.

In fits of giggles, the girls spun and danced until they began to disbelieve the presence of a separate earth and sky. Only then did they fall into heaps onto the soft grass, looking up to the sun high in the sky.

"You know, I wish every day could be like this," Aletia said quietly. "Just us, outside- no lessons, no Lady Joan scolding us about decorum, no mother nitpicking our embroidery." It was a childish wish, to be certain, but the realities of life had yet to fall hard upon Aletia's slim shoulders.

"Things never stay the same," was all Allete said with a sort of sad smile. "At least we'll always be sisters."

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**a/n: Check out AsCast at ****.com****! Cheers! ~Kate**


	3. The Messenger

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Although royalties would be helpful in paying for textbooks...

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Hooves pounded down the well-worn path to the castle, the horse's eyes rolling as though he knew exactly how disastrous the news the messenger carried was. The servants, too busy with their appointed tasks to notice anything amiss, however, were sent flying out of the way when the horse made it clear that there would be no stopping as it leaped into the courtyard.

"The King! The King and Queen are coming!" shouted the breathless rider, a lanky boy of thirteen who had been graced with sharp features and a mass of wheaten hair that seemed to rebel on its own accord.

Those gathered in the courtyard exchanged looks, and the smithy, who had been waddling over to hand a cook a freshly-repaired ewer for the night's feast, grabbed the horse's bridle with a meaty calloused hand. "What d'you mean, Barend, the King and Queen are comin? Yeh know as well as I that tis only yer father who be approaching," the smith asked in his scratchy voice.

Barend shook his head. "No, I saw the standard with my own eyes!" he said, sounding more like a petulant child than a messenger. "Father's coming with the King and Queen in tow!"

The boy's earnestness caused a bevy of panicked looks amongst the servants, who whispered to their neighbor franticly about the state of the castle. The whispers grew in volume as the blacksmith handed over the horse's reins to a nearby stable boy, helping the Duke's son off his horse in a graceful motion. "I'm not lying," Barend began to say, until another voice made it impossible to speak.

"What are you all doing babbling like a flock of geese?" shouted a short, severe looking woman standing on the threshold of the great hall. She brandished a thin diadem in her hand and her eyes swept angrily across the crowd until they came to rest on her eldest son. "Barend! What have you done?" she asked, accusatory. The Duchess was a formidable woman even on her best days, and downright terrifying if one were unlucky enough to be the receiver of her wrath.

Barend faced his mother with a gulp, remembering all too well his mother's last scolding when he had lied about something. "It's true, Your Grace," he said earnestly. "I was riding out to meet the Duke when I saw the royal standard and a man wearing a crown," he hurried nervously. "And there was a pretty carriage, too, and lots of men…"

The Duchess let out a very un-lady-like string of curses as she turned away from her eldest son. "You heard the boy! The King is coming! I shall not be embarrassed by your laziness! Move!" she variably shrieked to the populous who had been watching the site of the Duchess and her son.

In the ensuing chaos, the Duchess yelled out orders to anyone who would listen, her bulky body moving with surprising speed down the halls of her husband's ancestral home. "Clear the rushes! Make up the second-best room for the Queen, the first for the King!" she barked, pushing a girl of about twelve out of her way as she stormed down the halls. "Bring out the gold plate! I will be counting it, Karl!" she snarled to the Keeper of the Wardrobe. "Can't count on royalty to bring their own," she muttered angrily.

The commotion that met Allete and Aletia as they slipped into the courtyard was the ideal cover for the two girls to duck inside a servant's entrance and up a secret way to the family's wing. "Hurry, Aletia!" Allete gasped as they took the stairs two at a time. "I heard them say that Father is coming home sooner than they thought…"

It didn't take much motivation for Aletia to double her pace, her hands racing over the somewhat slimy walls of the rarely used passage. Although neither girl had seen her father for two years, they had heard enough threats from their mother's mouth of telling their father, the Duke, about their misbehavior that they were given cause for worry if they displeased him.

With a little grunt, Allete put her full weight into the door, finally causing it to creak open into their shared room. A large canopied bed took up a majority of the room, overwhelming the small space with its huge posts and high mattress. The only adornment on the walls was the one ancient tapestry that successfully obscured the door they had only recently found. The girls scurried in, only barely managing to close the door behind them when Lady Joan burst in to their small room, looking crosser than ever.

"Do you realize how long I've searched for you?" the Lady, who was well-past her maidenhood, asked in an accusatory tone. "Look at you, in all that filth. You look no better than those noxious beggar children who sit outside the walls," Joan said as she pushed Allete, who was slightly closer to her, towards a large basin of water. "Wash your hands and face," she commanded. "And you," she said, taking Aletia by the arm and dragging her to the high stool that was used for hairdressing. "Sit still," Joan said as she took a brush to Aletia's tangled hair, not even trying to be gentle with her brush strokes.

In an hour, both girls had been dressed in the matching blue dresses that Allete had suspected they would wear, with gold chains around their neck in recognition of the King's presence. The Duke was a man of appearances, and his expectations were to find his family toeing the line between their position and royalty. With those expectations in mind, he had ensured that each of his daughters had a trinket of some sort that could serve as part of their dowry (and be worn to impress their suitor as well), and his sons a finely wrought sword to wear at their hip.

Allete brought a hand up to the chain in wonder, but her hand was quickly swatted away by Lady Joan. "Touch it and I shall take it off your pretty little neck and keep it for myself," Joan scolded in anxiety, knowing that these girls would be scrutinized for the least of flaws, and she later humiliated for their shortcomings. Allete gave a fearful look and lowered her hand, and Aletia squeezed it in a last show of kindness before they were hurried out of the room by Joan.

Were it not for Joan's barking to clear a path, her charges would've been run over by one of the servants who went down the halls in a flurry of activity. As it was, the two young girls were ducking around women whose arms were laden with furs for the bedchambers, and men who were moving the furniture about from room to room. Allete and Aletia exchanged a wide eyed look. Never before in their lives had they seen such a fuss being made in their home. Certainly, this wasn't warranted by the Duke's arrival, was it?

A staircase later, Joan had managed to shuttle her charges to the doors of the Great Hall, where it seemed that the entire population of the castle had turned out to greet their guests. A wiry girl with tired eyes and the same lank blonde hair as the twins hurried to and fro, her exertions causing her hair to spring out of the tightly wound braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. The girl, who was only fifteen, looked positively beside herself with anxiety as she searched the crowd for the final additions to the family. "There you are!" Selwyn said with a relieved look as she leaned down to take each of her sisters by the hand. "Come on- Mother's on the war path," their older sister confided in a low voice as she dragged the girls up towards the group of siblings who had somehow gathered there.

Sander, in a tunic that looked far too large for him still, was poking and teasing baby Lyra in Selwyn's absence, tugging on the baby's pale lilac dress in order to make his sister cry. Although Lyra was a year and a half, she had yet to grasp the finer points of speech, and was still reliant upon little gurgles and screams in order to get her point across. Selwyn scooped the poor little girl up in her arms in one motion, moving to calm Lyra in a well-practiced motion. Selwyn had been put in charge of the baby when she was but a child herself, and now whenever Lyra was in the midst of one of her famous fits, it was only her eldest sister who could talk reason into the little girl. "Sander, stop it," she scolded the five-year-old in a tone of warning. "You know how to behave, don't you?"

The little boy grinned devilishly, giving his eldest sister all the answer she needed. Sander, as the second son, had already begun to enjoy the liberties of his position. Whereas his elder brother Barend had been shuttled into the classroom from the tender age of three in order to learn the mechanics of running the Duchy, Sander had been doted on by nurses who were eager to have a little boy to kiss and coo over. Since the Duke didn't seem much to care for Sander's tutelage, aside from the most basic of skills, the boy had been let free for the majority of his life, playing at swords with some of the boys of the servants or causing poor old Boren, the head of the stables, a headache with his antics on horseback. He was the spare heir, and often easily forgotten about by the Duchess, who only heard about the boy when a particularly disgruntled servant got up the courage to tell the Duchess of her younger son's misdeeds.

Selwyn, on the other hand, had become the mother of the brood of children the Duchess had issued over the past fifteen years. Her birth had begun as something of a disappointment to the Duke, who had made it clear to his wife that her position would not be secure until she provided him with a male heir. So when Selwyn was born, the first child, she was quickly sent to the care of nursemaids and a particularly kind-hearted gentlewoman who had undertaken the majority of Selwyn's care. Selwyn was not a beauty, as she had the misfortune to inherit some of her mother's less desirable traits, like a plump face and her short stature. Still, she was a pretty girl, and already the serving women had begun to speculate on the day when the first suitor would arrive.

The Duchess stood to the side, looking uncomfortable in the midst of her six children. It was a struggle at times for Eileen to remember her children's names, much less their personalities, and so she avoided them at all costs. After all, hadn't her mother told her that a well-bred woman left the rearing of her children to someone whose affairs were not equal to the importance of a lady's duties? The short, plump woman shifted uneasily in the crimson gown that engulfed her. Her corset was too tight, the Duchess thought crossly, and the shoes pinched unbearably. Were it not for the fine quality of this dress, she would've gladly put it aside for one of her older gowns in a heartbeat. Still, knowing that it was the latest style worn by all the ladies of Anvard gave Eileen a reason, however shallow, to bear the discomfort as she waited anxiously for the arrival of their guests.

For a long while, everyone stood still as a tree on a windless day. Nobody, save Sander, dared move for fear of mussing up their appearance. Word had travelled quickly about the castle of the important guests arriving, and as such everyone from the Master Tutor to the lowliest scullery girl had taken a moment to attempt improvements to their appearance. When finally the low sound of a wagon broke the silence, everyone seemed to move as one to crane their necks around the edge of the courtyard wall to be the first to see the approaching visitors. However, when the creaking vehicle came into view, there was a universal release of air as everyone realized that it was no better than a supply wagon come ahead of the travelers, presumably to ready a luncheon which had already been cooking for hours in the castle's kitchens.

"What news do you bring, driver?" called the smithy at last, becoming annoyed with the constant twitters of the women around him. "Do the travelers approach?"

The driver, who now had more sets of expectant eyes on him than had likely laid eye on him in his lifetime nodded in affirmation. "A half hour more, I'd expect. His Majesty sent me ahead to offer these provisions for the dinner hour…" he said, waving back to his cart full of barrels of fine flour and meal, as well as sacks of dried vegetables from the far west of Archenland.

"His Majesty is kind indeed," the Duchess said, although her children could detect the faintest trace of insincerity in the statement.

In an instant, strong men had leaped forward to unload the cart, rolling barrels and hefting bags as large as a small child into the storeroom. Just as the last barrel hit the ground with a _thud_, the faint sound of hooves could be heard in the distance.

The Duchess looked up, squinting her beady blue eyes to see over the horizon. "They're here," she said simply.

For the crowd gathered, that was enough.

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a/n: Thank you to all who reviewed! Be sure to check out Narnia Fan Fiction Revolution! I have plans to put up Girl in the Mirror as an audio fic soon on Revolution Radio. Keep checking back for updates!

~Kate


	4. Envoy

**Disclaimer: Narnia doesn't belong to me. **

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When King Stefan of Archenland had announced his desire to go on progress, the court at large had been shocked. The aging king, who had scarcely stepped foot out of the protective confines of the royal gardens in close to twenty years, had not expressed any desire to leave Anvard in close to fifteen years. Certainly, thought those who had the king's ear, this will amount to no more than a fantastic sort of idea that is quickly abandoned when the realities of such a feat were finally seen.

Unfortunately for those at the palace, it seemed that this time, the king was in earnest about his travels. He sent for the royal tailor to make him new travelling clothes, since his were long since too small for him, and then alerted the royal baker to begin the task of provisioning the trip. Officially, the only ones travelling would be the King and Queen, as well as a fleet of the most elite guards as protection, yet everyone knew that by the time the wagons rolled out of Anvard, half of the court would follow the power as well, like jackals hungry to swoop in on the most prime of prey.

The Duke of Pire, though, was an exception to this. Since it had been he who had so delicately planted the idea of a progress in the fertile mind of his liege, he had managed to secure a direct invitation to be part of the party travelling. It was an honor few were afforded, and a show of his power in Archenland to all the other noblemen who ran about the castle in the hopes of gaining the King's favor. Joris, the Duke, had perfected his duplicity long ago, showing the face of a kind, concerned nobleman to the Duke while exerting his force over his fellow noblemen in a sort of warning of what would happen if they ever crossed him. It had not been easy for the Duke to claw his way to the King's right hand, but now that he was there, he had made himself at home.

A visit to Pire was not something which the Duke had originally intended for the progress. His ancestral home was remote to Archenland's main hub in Anvard, and as such, the Duke made every excuse possible to avoid visiting. Often it took a less than subtle suggestion on the King's part to send him home to visit the brood of children his wife had burdened him with. With every child, it was another dowry to provide, another political scheme to put into place, or at the least another grave to dig. Granted, they would have their uses, but in these early years they were about as useful to the Duke as a box full of kittens. Yet when the Queen made mention of his children, the Duke smiled broadly as he told her of the brood that would await her. Instantly the Queen's eyes filled with longing for her daughter Selene, whom she had lost two years ago to a raging fever that had set the kingdom upon its knees. The Duke knew when he had a possible opportunity for greater power, and instantly he leaped upon it, suggesting humbly that they visit the castle, feigning worry for his family.

So it came to be that a caravan of almost two dozen wagons and the majority of the royal stables set out on progress on a bright summer's day. The Queen had endured a tearful goodbye with her eldest daughter, Melina, and her only son, Lune, before finally being gently pried away from one of her favorite ladies to take her place in the richly appointed carriage. The Duke rode beside the King, listening patiently to the King's eager stories of progresses past, while he inwardly planned how to conceivably leave behind the Lord and Lady of the Northern Plains at their next destination.

After almost a month of travel, the entourage was finally approaching the shadow of the great sleeping giant that was the mountain of Pire. The message that the Duke sent heralding his imminent arrival was an afterthought, really; he had no idea the chaos he caused in his home by announcing his arrival. Such insignificant details were the reason he married in the first place, after all.

"Shall we have the pleasure of meeting your family at last, Joris?" called the king as he hurried his fat horse next to the Duke's. "You've done a splendid job of hiding them."

Joris gave a strained smile as he pointed his eyes ahead once more. "Certainly, Your Highness. I would be more than pleased to introduce you to my wife."

"The children, too!" the king said with a sad sort of smile, undoubtedly thinking about his little lost princess. "I'm sure the Queen's heart would be lightened to be around children once more." Subtlety seemed to be lost on the King of Archenland, and it was something that grated on the Duke's nerves more than incompetent staff even could.

Joris waved a hand in a dismissive sort of gesture, before realizing who he was doing it to and quickly made a very weak excuse of shooing a fly away from his line of vision. It seemed like the crest of the hill could not come fast enough for Joris, and the man hurried his horse along. The king guffawed and made a remark about Joris' eagerness to return home after so long an absence, to which the Duke gave a tight-lipped smirk. His eagerness lied in turning over responsibility of the royals to his wife while he made himself scarce, likely going down to the village to see if there had been some improvement in the female population there.

As they approached, the stones of the castle grew clearer, and the crowd of people assembled, who had up until now appeared to be just one large mass, began to show as individuals. Of course, Joris paid no attention to any one person over another- they were insignificant to him. Still, it was pleasing for him to see just how much it meant that the master of the estate was returning home. In all likelihood, he had forgotten to mention that the King and Queen accompanied him, or that they had planned their stay not in days but in weeks. Such details were trivial, thought the Duke with a smirk. How difficult could it be to ensure that food got to the table and that it was fit for a royal pallet?

Joris watched as a wagon ambled ahead, the driver encouraging the ancient draft horse into a quicker clip than the Duke would've thought possible. "Where is that cart going?" Joris snapped to one of his men who rode close by as a guard.

"The King sent it, m'lord," the man said awkwardly. "As a gift to your family, to help defray some of the work…"

Joris' brown eyebrows furrowed so far that they resembled two hairy caterpillars trying to mate. "Does His Highness think so little of my home?" he growled to his man. "I shall not be indebted to that old fool in any capacity."

The liveried man appeared to be trembling down to his highly polished yet worn boots. "No, sire. Certainly, he meant it only as goodwill…" the man sputtered, sounding more like a frightened little girl than a seasoned soldier.

Joris glared at the wagon in the distance and growled. "I shall not be beholden to him. I am above such petty things," the Duke of Pire vowed, sparing a glance back to the man in question. The supply wagon was too far now to stop, so he let it go, although he did not say much else to the King for the rest of their ride.

When finally they had reached the outer courtyard, Joris straightened a little in his seat, determined that nobody would question who he was. The crowd of servants and laborers all stood about in an uneasy way, anxiously looking towards the entrance to the yard out of curiosity. The Duke could feel hundreds of eyes upon him, and he relished his authority here. Amongst these people, he was second only to Aslan (if such a thing even existed), and someone who certainly they had more to fear from than a mythical beast. At his word, he could cause a family evicted, or a servant's hand chopped cleanly from his arm out of punishment for bad work. Joris gave a satisfied sort of smirk as he led the King towards the entrance of the hall where he saw a woman and a brood of children awaiting him.

It was fortunate that all the children seemed to resemble one-another, otherwise Joris doubted that he would have been able to tell his children apart from the hoards of other ones that stood about. He caught sight of the gold chains the girls wore and the ornate looking sword that a lanky boy wore at his side. 'Ah,' thought the Duke, 'this must be Barend. A pity how he resembles his mother.' The tall girl next to him looked about as surly as any common scullery maid, as she attempted to contain a wriggling infant in her arms. Had his daughter given birth out of wedlock without his knowledge? Joris could feel the anger boiling in his stomach until he remembered a letter he had received almost a year and a half ago from Eileen announcing to him the birth of his sixth child. The anger did not leave him completely, but subsided for the moment until he could get his wife to state the truth to him.

"Welcome, Lord Husband," called Eileen from the farthest end of the brood of children.

Joris turned his attention to his wife of almost twenty years, and he grimaced a little. The woman had only grown fatter in his absence, he saw, and certainly less lovely. She had not been particularly pretty when he had married her, but she was not the size of a gorged bear, either. The Duke had no reason to question his practice of avoiding Pire like the very plague resided there. Still, Joris managed a very strained smile to his wife as he swung down from his large horse, kissing her hand in a very courteous manner. "I thank you, wife. I trust your days have been kept busy?" he said, raising an eyebrow. It was all too easy to lie on paper, he knew, especially it wasn't your hand which penned the note. He had long ago demanded his wife stop using her own hand to write any correspondence, finding it embarrassing to even look at his wife's abominable handwriting. To be very honest, the Duke had seen better handwriting come from a schoolchild than what his wife was capable of.

Color rose to Eileen's cheeks, whether from the tightness of her corset or from guilt nobody could tell. "Of course, husband," Eileen replied in a rather indignant tone. "Shall you play the proper host now, Your Grace, or shall you leave that to me as well?" Eileen said in a soft, syrupy sweet tone that only those close to her could hear. The Duke, unfortunately, was one of them, and while he turned to face his monarchs, he cast a look at his wife which clearly communicated his displeasure of being addressed so.

"Your Majesties, may I present my wife Eileen, the Duchess of Pire," Joris said with a bow. The Queen had since alighted from her carriage and stood at her husband's right hand, and the pair nodded in recognition to the Duke and Duchess.

"It is an honor to welcome you into our humble home, Your Majesties," Eileen said in a rather breathy voice as she straightened with a little grimace of effort.

"We are obliged to your husband for his generous invitation, Your Grace," replied the Queen in a rather flute-like voice that seemed to match her tall, reed-like physique rather well. "Certainly, I hope, our visit will cause no imposition upon you or your beautiful family," the lady continued as she smiled warmly to the six children gathered in their mother's shadow.

When Eileen only gave a very stiff curtsy, Joris quickly interceded. The Queen's hints were quite transparent, and Joris once more cursed whatever fates had placed him with this dullard of a wife. "May I present to you my children, Your Grace?" he said, bowing courteously to the Queen.

"You may," the regal woman replied with a warm smile. The Duke motioned to Selwyn to step forward. "Introduce yourself and your siblings," he said, his request coming out more as an order than a fatherly request. Not surprisingly, the Queen furrowed her eyebrows in distaste of the Duke's tone, but the skinny lines undid themselves when Selwyn stepped forward and began to speak.

"Your Majesty," Selwyn said quietly, bobbing as graceful a curtsy as was possible when one held a squirming 18 month old baby in one's arms. "I am Selwyn, the eldest. This is my littlest sister, Lyra. She is but 18 months old," Selwyn said with a warm sort of smile towards Lyra as the girl cooed in recognition of her name. "My eldest brother, Barend," she said, looking up to her younger brother, who at the look in her eyes quickly bowed, murmuring something that resembled 'Your Majesties'. "Allete and Aletia are the twins, and then we have Sander, the youngest brother," Selwyn said as she gently nudged Sander forward, whispering to him that he should bow. Allete and Aletia exchanged the briefest of looks before they dropped down into curtsies. Aletia managed to straighten with only the smallest of wobbles, and she could not help herself but to smile broadly in her childish pride.

"What a wonderful family you have, Your Graces," the Queen said as she approached Selwyn. "How you could bear to leave them for any time is incomprehensible, Joris," she added in the same sweet tone that Joris knew was a scolding in a sweet disguise.

"Tis only with the greatest of difficulties, I assure you, my lady," Joris replied smoothly, refusing to let the queen ruffle his feathers.

The queen shared a smile with Selwyn before Eileen, who feared for what Selwyn may say, quickly stepped to the Queen's side. "Might I show you to your room, Your Majesty? No doubt the journey was exhausting," Eileen continued, edging close to babbling.

The Queen easily recognized the Duchess' motives, and after a quick decision not to exert her power quite yet, politely agreed, bidding a kind goodbye to the children before following Eileen inside.

As the Queen disappeared inside, Joris quickly recommended the same luxury for the King. In short order he had managed to shuttle the royals inside, and with their curiosity satisfied for the moment, the crowd of servants had disbanded, going about to their jobs.

This left the children quite alone, Sander still wriggling in his uncomfortable clothing. Selwyn let out a sigh, placing Lyra on the step as she let herself relax for the first moment that day.

"The Queen seems very kind," Allete said quietly as she sat upon the step by Lyra, amusing her little sister by gently tickling her.

Aletia laughed. "Of course she does! She's the queen- you have to be nice to be a queen, Allete. Everybody knows that."

Selwyn was too tired to even attempt to correct her little sister's mistake, so Allete went on. "Well, she must be a very good queen, then," Allete said in a very childlike finality.

"D'you think we'll see her again?" Sander asked. "She talks funny."

"Hush, Sander, don't say such things. And yes, I'd imagine we'll see her again. The King and Queen will be staying with us for some time," Selwyn said tiredly as she reached down to retake Lyra. "Come along, Sander: let's get you out of those clothes before you rip them off of yourself," his eldest sister said with a grim sort of smile.

The boy did not need telling twice and gladly trotted in behind Selwyn. Barend slipped off, presumably to the stable where he'd likely steal his horse and go galloping to the meadow for as long as he could.

Allete and Aletia looked at each other, then suddenly broke into a grin simultaneously. "C'mon, let's go watch them unload the carts. I've heard that the King owns a chalice of solid gold studded with sapphires!" Aletia said excitedly, dragging her sister along behind as they ran off into the chaos.

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a/n: Thanks for the feedback, y'all! I appreciate it more than you know. ~Kate


	5. The Queen

Disclaimer: I'm not C.S. Lewis, therefore do not own Narnia.

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Brinanon could not find rest in the richly appointed room which the Duchess had deposited her in. As queen of the realm, Brinanon knew that she was entitled to the second best room in the castle, and by the overly gaudy furnishings, she had quickly deduced that this room belonged to none other than the woman who had escorted her here. It made her uncomfortable to think of how her presence was undoubtedly causing this poor family undue stress. She could still recall her days as the eldest daughter of a lowly knight, and how her father's small estate a day's ride from Anvard would be subjected to highborn guests. Brianon still remembered the worn and drawn look that her mother wore as she worried about the state of the hangings or how they would afford to feed their guests when the two farms nearby could barely provide enough food for the families that lived there.

A knock sounded on the door, causing Brianon to turn towards the heavy wooden door. "Enter," she called, her voice impassive as she looked away to the polished silver mirror. Her hair was becoming a little grayer than it used to be, she saw, and there were more lines on her face than she remembered there being before. She sighed softly, picking up a brush as she heard the latch lift on the door.

"Your Majesty," said a soft, nervous sounding voice that Brianon had to strain to hear. "Do you require anything?"

The speaker was a woman who appeared much older than her twenty five years. Her belly was bloated with the buds of life, and even her fear of the woman before her could not take away the subtle glow that all women with child wore. In that instant, Brianon wished that she could be just a woman for once, rather than a queen, so she could sit with this woman and share the wonders of motherhood with this woman. As it was, though, she knew that this could not be. She was a queen, and this woman was a serving woman; friendship between them in anything but the most elementary and professional sense would be against all the ideals of society.

"No, dear," the queen replied. "Although… do you know the Duke's children well?" she asked with curiosity. The children, while they were all clean and impeccably dressed, seemed ill at ease with the entire proceedings of that afternoon. The Duchess' separation from her children, and Joris' seeming inability to even name his own children was enough to cause any self respecting mother some concern.

The serving woman whispered a word of affirmation, although it appeared that she held back exactly what she knew.

"What are they like? The little boy… Sander?... He seems very independent, and he couldn't be more than six," the queen began, trying to satisfy her curiosity without seeming too prying.

"Five, your majesty. He is allowed a great deal of freedom, since he is the second son. According to his tutor, he is near impossible in the classroom, which leaves all of the educated men to concentrate only on Barend, the oldest boy…" said the serving woman, stopping short when footsteps rang down the hallway outside the Queen's doorway.

Brianon clearly recognized the sound children's eager feet, and she stood eagerly. In a few large paces she had managed to get to the door, which she opened slowly so as not to frighten the children in her eagerness to see them.

"You can't get me, Allete!" called one of the racing figures as it dashed closer to the Queen's room. "You can't…" Suddenly Aletia came to an abrupt halt, only barely managing to keep herself from falling as her shoes skidded on the worn stone floor. "Your Majesty," Aletia managed to sputter, bobbing something that was supposed to resemble a curtsy.

"Aletia, why did you stop running?" asked a rather out of breath Allete as she rounded the corner, only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the queen at her doorway. "Your Majesty!" Allete said in fear as she, too, dropped into the curtsy that must have taken the better part of a month to perfect.

The Queen looked at the two identical girls with a warm smile. "Rise, dears, no need to stand on ceremony," she said gently, helping Allete up and placing her hand on Aletia's shoulder. "You're the Duke's twin daughters, aren't you?" she asked, her voice neutral.

Allete looked entirely too petrified to speak, so it fell to Aletia to answer the Queen's question. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'm Aletia, and this is my sister, Allete. We're sorry if we disturbed you…" she said quickly. She could just imagine what sort of punishment may be in store for them if their mother heard that they had disturbed the Queen, much less been anywhere near the room.

Brianon's face broke into a motherly smile as she ushered the girls in. "Not at all! I was just about to sit down for a bit of tea… would you like to join me?" she asked kindly as she waited by the small table expectantly. "There's too many wonderful sweets here for me to eat, and it would be a shame to waste them."

"That would be splendid!" Aletia exclaimed, not thinking twice as she hurried to the table and sat unceremoniously upon one of the stools that were usually occupied by one of the Duchess' few ladies. Allete was more cautious in coming, but when the Queen gave her a warm smile and led the girl to a stool herself, Allete felt herself relax just the slightest bit, so she no longer was tempted to bolt from the room in fear.

With surprising grace, Brianon poured each girl a cup of tea, passing the milk and sugar to the sisters as she watched them exchange looks between them. They seemed to be having a silent conversation between the two of them even as Allete (or, at least, the queen _thought _it was Allete) deftly poured enough milk in each of their cups to satisfy their tastes. "Would either of you like a cake?" Brianon offered quickly after she noticed Aletia's eyes stray to the platter with longing.

Aletia's face positively beamed as she grabbed a cake with berries atop it, taking a bite eagerly. "Bess, the cook, makes the best pasties in the world. Mother only lets us have them on special occasions, though. She says if we have them too often that we'll get ugly and impossible to marry off," Aletia said with a pleased face as she continued to eat off the cake.

Brianon frowned a little at the seemingly innocent comment. She could remember well the days of watching her diet for foods that would make her inflate like the pig's bladder that the village boys would blow up and play with around the holidays. Still, it didn't seem to Brianon that any mother should worry about that at such a young age. "How old are you two?" she asked with interest. Certainly, they couldn't be more than twelve, if one was being generous.

"Seven," Allete squeaked, finding her sister otherwise occupied with another cake.

"Seven?" the Queen repeated, her eyes widening. "You act a great deal older than your years, darlings," she added quickly, not eager to have these girls notice her shock.

Aletia snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Tell that to Lady Joan. She always says that Allete and I don't act grown-up enough. Especially me- she always likes to tell me how improper I'm being when I run down a hallway instead of walk like a lady should," Aletia said with a face. There was a certain gentleness in the Queen's face that made Aletia like her instantly and trust her implicitly.

The queen gave Aletia a sad smile, remembering all too well calling out the same warnings to her dear Selene as the girl had run down the halls of the palace. "There is plenty of time for you two dears to grow into the fine women I'm certain you'll become," Brianon said softly.

Aletia smiled brightly, not noticing the queen's distress as she considered her apparent triumph over Joan. Her sister, though, saw Brianon's unease and frowned a little as well, although she remained silent on the matter. Instead, she nibbled half-heartedly at a small cake, unable to quite enjoy it with Joan's scolding voice playing over and over in her mind.

For a long while, the three sat in relative silence, although each seemed to be quite engrossed in their own thoughts. Aletia sat considering the powerful woman across from her, all at once daydreaming what it would be like if she was a queen. Would she be powerful? What was it like being able to tell anyone what to do, and them having no choice but to do it? She smiled at that thought- how nice it would be to command her mother to never again nitpick her embroidery, or tell her what to do. "What's it like being queen?" Aletia asked suddenly, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The queen looked up in astonishment at the question, blinking a few times as though she could not quite understand Aletia's sudden inquiry. "What's it like?" Brianon repeated slowly, trying to devise an answer that would satisfy the little girl who sat listening expectantly. "Well, it's not an easy job…" she began slowly. This took a great deal of thought on her part to accurately describe her hectic days of overseeing servants and educating maids in waiting who were not much older than Aletia. "I rise up very early so I may have breakfast with my husband, the King, before we go off to our other duties. Then I must go to the kitchens to make sure that they have made enough food for the entire castle and visit those inside who are sick. Then I sit and read with my ladies about good moral values for a spell. On fine days, sometimes I enjoy going to the gardens and tending to them myself. I'm sure the Royal Laundress is not pleased with my dirt-stained clothes, but I do like the feeling of dirt in my hands," Brianon confessed with a smile. "Then, of course, I spend time with my children."

"You have children? What're their names?" Aletia asked excitedly. It would be fun, she thought with a grin, to have a talk with princes and princesses to see what fun they were allowed to have in the castle of Anvard. According to their father's brief stories, the castle there was even larger than their home in Pire, and full of rooms for all of the people who stayed with the King and Queen.

Brianon positively beamed at the mention of her children. "My oldest is Melina: she's about the age of your sister, Selwyn, I believe. Then Lune, my only boy, is just a year or two older than you two girls," the Queen replied, having to bite back mention of her dear daughter Selene.

"Does Melina like being a princess?" Allete asked suddenly. She always heard all the village children talking about becoming a princess and never having to do a day of work again. "I think it would be terrifying… always around so many people, having to be perfect at every opportunity."

The Queen looked closely over at Allete, whom she had almost forgotten was there. It was difficult, indeed, to remember that there were two when they looked so similar. Allete looked like a shadow next to the more precocious Aletia, and instantly the Queen saw a bit of herself in the girl. She had had the same concerns when her father had announced the Prince Stefan's interest in her, and a desire to make her his wife. Brianon had been of only mild beauty, but was well-known for her honesty and fairness when dealing with the servants of her father's home. Ever since the death of her mother, Brianon had become the sole keeper of the manor home of her father, and somehow the word of her hospitality had spread clear to the castle through the mouths of pleased courtiers.

"I have never heard a complaint from her mouth, no," Brianon said carefully. "Melina has always seemed to relish her position. She begs me almost daily to be allowed to attend a banquet or a dance. Selene, though…" Brianon trailed off.

"Selene?" Allete asked.

Brianon became silent. "I do not wish to speak of her," she said stiffly, her voice hardly above a shocked whisper. "It is not something I ever speak of."

Aletia looked poised to probe further, although a well-placed kick from Allete seemed to shut her up. It was opportune timing indeed that caused Selwyn to appear at the door, her face drawn. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but our mother wishes to see Allete and Aletia in her chambers," Selwyn said quickly, her face downturned to the floor.

Brianon looked relieved for the intrusion and nodded. "Of course. Thank you, darlings, for joining me. I did enjoy our conversation."

"Thank you for tea, Your Majesty," Aletia said quickly as she rubbed her shin. Allete echoed her sister quietly, stealing one last glance up at the Queen before sliding off her chair to join her sisters.

As Brianon watched the three leave, she felt a tear form in her eye as she remembered Selene. For a moment with these girls, it seemed as though she had her beloved child back. Perhaps, she thought with a watery smile, that was what caused Aslan to send her here. If she could not find healing in the stone confines of Anvard, perhaps she would find it in the shadow of the sleeping giant.

a/n: Reviews appreciated! Thanks for your support!! ~Kate


	6. Rescue

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are the property of C.S. Lewis.

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Although the daily life in Pire could never be described as harmonious, all pretenses of harmony were quickly dashed with the arrival of the monarchs of the land. The great hall became the chief audience chamber as well as a place to parade the seemingly endless supply of food. Poor farmers found themselves camping under the stars with fat purses from anxious nobles who were eager to find a place nearby the king. The court of Archenland had seemed to sprout like weeds overnight, and tents dotted the landscape. Farmers' wives carried their largest basins into the newly grown camps, offering their services as laundress, or to lend their tub for a time to well-dressed men who had acquired a layer of dust from the roads. Men eager to impress their monarch only grumbled slightly at parting with their copper coins, and in short order the whole of Stefan's court smelled of ewe's milk and herbs, with burns on their cheeks from their exposure to the outdoors.

Inside the Duke's residence, the halls were never left empty. Strong young people from the village had been brought in as extra hands to help the already over-worked staff. Wagons came and went almost ceaselessly at the larder door, and a gang of boys made countless trips to unload their contents. Bags of the finest wheat, ground near Anvard, were brought to make the King's bread, and it became commonplace to see a group of men with various fresh game collected outside the kitchen. Poor Cook complained of her nerves more frequently than she had ever before, and for a day had been barred from the kitchen for fear of her health. The addition of royal visitors had put the old house to the test, and everyone was straining to keep things pleasing to the king.

The King, however, seemed blithely unaware of his subjects' toils. He spent long days out hunting with his host, the Duke of Pire, leaving his wife plenty of time in the Duchess' company. Both women grew bored of each other quickly, though, and so while the Duchess waddled off to yell at a well-meaning servant, the Queen took to walking in the rather neglected gardens of Pire.

It was on just one such occasion that she surprised a group of children, obviously used to having this place for themselves, who were in the midst of an elaborate game of make-believe, complete with three boys wielding swords and a girl perched high in a tree with a crown of daisies upon her head.

"We shall rescue you, fair maiden!" shouted a boy of twelve as he waved his old rusted sword which looked suspiciously like one which had been put out with the midden heap. "That sorceress shall not succeed!"

"Peri, let me have the sword!" begged the smallest of the would-be knights, tugging on the older boy's arm.

"You're too little, Sander," snapped the other stick-wielding attacker.

"Am not!" said the belligerent five year old as his lip began to quiver with the sure signs of an oncoming tantrum.

The girl in the tree was holding tightly to the branch she sat on, looking longingly down at the ground but saying nothing as the other children argued.

Before Brianon could manage a hasty retreat, the little boy came rushing towards her, pulling on her skirts with small, sweaty hands. "Make Peri give me the sword," demanded the little boy, acting as though the Queen was any other woman he could easily get his way with.

"Sander!" cried the child who had snapped at him, quickly running to catch up with him. "Your Majesty, I am so deeply sorry…" the girl said anxiously.

Brianon knelt patiently attempting to pry the boy's hands from the soft wool of the skirt that her seamstress had spent many days embroidering. "It isn't the first time it's happened," she said gently with a smile as she took the little boy's hands in hers.

Sander gave the girl a triumphant look. "See, Aletia? She agrees that I should have the sword."

"Now, young lord, I said no such thing," the queen said quickly. "I'm sure your brother only means to keep you safe…"

"Peri isn't my brother!" exclaimed Sander with a giggle.

"I'm but a ward of the Duke, Majesty," explained the boy, Peri, looking down at his toes as a blush crept up his cheeks.

"A ward?" Brianon asked, raising her eyebrow. "I didn't know the Duke had a ward." Joris did not seem the type to take extra mouths, much less young boys without any particularly remarkable qualities.

"His Majesty appointed Joris with my guardianship when I was but a young boy, but I have only recently come to Pire for my education beside the future duke, Barend," the boy mumbled, obviously uncomfortable recounting his story.

The queen looked steadily at the boy, trying to recall the circumstances of the story he told. It was not often that a small boy would be paraded before the King and given to one of the greatest men in the country as a ward. His angular face was yet smooth, and the queen guessed that the boy could be no more than thirteen at the most. Knowing Joris, there must be something special about the boy, if he agreed to support him. If only she could figure out what that something was.

"Sword!" Sander demanded again, breaking Brianon's reverie. "Gimme the sword!"

Memories of Lune's similar antics floated to the surface of the queen's mind as she watched the boy's lip begin to quiver again, and after Aletia shot her a desperate look, Brianon quickly scooped the boy into her embrace. "You are too fierce to be given a sword, my lord! Why, I'm sure your scowl alone would serve to scare away any sorceress who dared cross paths with you."

Slowly a smile crept across Sander's red lips and he grinned. "I am pretty scary," he agreed after a moment.

"Exactly my thinking," the Queen encouraged, looking over at the other children.

"You'll be our secret weapon, Sander!" Peri said quickly in encouragement, nudging Aletia to do the same.

"Yes, San, but you must be quiet to be a secret," Aletia said, sounding less enthusiastic.

Sander wriggled in the Queen's arms, causing her to release the boy. With a big grin, he ran to join his sister, who still looked nervously at the queen.

"He hasn't mussed your gown, has he, Majesty?" Aletia asked nervously, fearing the wrath of her father if he found out.

"Nothing that my maid cannot undo," Brianon replied quickly, resting her hand on Aletia's shoulder. "Now, I do believe there is a maiden who needs rescuing, and quickly, too," she added, looking up at Allete and waving.

"Allete!" Peri exclaimed, running back towards the tree quickly and looking up at her. "Are you alright, Lettie?" he called worriedly.

"Yes," came Allete's faint reply. "Although, I would like to come down soon."

"You are certain?" Peri called up again.

Aletia handed Peri his old sword and smiled. "She said yes, Peri. Now come on- there's a sorceress to conquer," she said with a grin as she brandished her stick with a flourish.

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a/n: Thanks to rthstewart and Metonomia for their help & encouragement. :) Thank you to all my kind reviewers- I do so appreciate your feedback.


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